Cultivation

On my first night inside the novel, the villain barged into my practice room.

Then he found himself staring at the male lead and the second male lead, already seated on meditation cushions.

After a long silence, he said, “Move over.

Make room for me.”

“There’s no room,” the male lead said.

“There really isn’t.”

I surveyed the cushions packed across the floor.

“I think we can squeeze in one more.”

After wandering the mortal world for more than six hundred years, I hear that a once-in-a-century sword prodigy has appeared.

The young man has also found a dragon that sounds remarkably like the one I lost long ago.

Cultivators from across the realm flock to the mountain, some to seek the dragon and the Dao, others to kill and seize treasure.

I am different.

After a long, dusty journey to the Sword Sect, all I want is to set up a little stall at the foot of the mountain and sell wontons.

I cultivate the Way of Detachment, but I don’t prove my enlightenment by killing a husband—I temper my mind by getting cheated on.

After three cultivation partners betray me in increasingly absurd ways, every heartbreak becomes a breakthrough, until I ascend on the spot and discover just how useful infidelity can be.

The auspicious hour had arrived. The wedding rites were complete, yet the bride remained kneeling in her blood-red wedding dress.

A gust of wind lifted her bridal veil, revealing a woman’s half-rotted head. Her lifeless eyes stared straight at me.

I tried to flee, but an icy hand clamped tightly around my wrist.

“Where are you going, my lady?” the wedding attendant asked with a smile. “It’s time for the banquet.”

Dark purple corpse spots stood out starkly on his powder-caked wrist.

So none of the guests at the wedding banquet were alive.

Myself included.

I’d transmigrated into the role of an overpowered hero’s spoiled fiancé.

A spoiled fiancé riddled with poison, with only three years left to live.

The system told me: [Host, your mission is to play the spoiled brat.

Make the protagonist’s life difficult and toughen him up mentally.]

[When the poison kills you, you’ll receive a generous reward~] [Friendly reminder: you’re not allowed to seriously harm the protagonist.

The system will stop you.]

In other words, I was supposed to light a fire under him without actually burning him.

So I threw tantrums every day.

“I want that merfolk pearl.

It matches my clothes.”

“What did I do in my past eight lives to deserve a penniless fiancé like you?”

“Your life’s ambition should be to keep me in comfort!”

Three years later, the hero had made a name for himself.

I lay back and waited to die.

The system screamed.

[Host!

Where did all your poison go?!]

As a child, Li Sujun saved an immortal lord who promised to answer whenever she lit the Heaven-Seeking Incense.

She called for him three times.

He never came.

Years later, Sujun has become a healer—and the same immortal lord lies powerless at her door after failing his tribulation.

He insists she is the trial of love he must overcome.

She thinks he should look closer at his own mistakes.

But the dog, cat, and little snake in her home are not what they seem, and the path Sujun abandoned is already winding back toward her.

To understand what Zhao Yunzhi truly lost for her, she must face the family that discarded her, the sect that used him, and the difference between love as possession and love as freedom.

My younger sister gave birth to a son in the Eastern Palace.

I brought a fortune in family wealth and cartloads of rare medicinal pills with me to the palace to visit her.

The moment she saw me, she nestled into my arms and began to cry, tears falling one after another.

Her movements were intimate, her voice soft and spoiled. There was not the slightest trace of distance or unfamiliarity between us.

And yet my entire body went rigid, a chill crawling up my spine and sinking into my heart.

Because the face before me, identical to my sister’s in every way,

was not the dead woman’s skin I had sewn onto her with my own hands.

Before ascending to immortality, my cultivation partner worried I would never let him go.

So he put a spell on me to erase my memories.

What he hadn’t expected was that I would fall for every man I met.

He hadn’t even ascended yet, and I’d already fallen madly in love three times.

At last, he couldn’t stand it anymore and appeared before me.

He thought I would fall in love with him at first sight, abandon everyone else, and lose myself hopelessly in him.

But I only looked at this vaguely familiar man.

Then, torn, I asked, “If you really like me that much, would you mind being my second husband?”

My ex completely lost his mind.

Qiao Ying had transmigrated into a book. Unfortunately, kidnappers had injured her head, leaving her with amnesia.

In a dark, damp dungeon, she met a young man.

He wore robes of blue-green, his white hair as pure as snow. His face was exquisitely beautiful, but a white silk blindfold covered his eyes. Though he was disabled, he was the most optimistic person she had ever met, always smiling.

That day, the amnesiac Qiao Ying escaped the dungeon with the harmless-looking young man in tow.

The young man was a good person.

Because he was afraid of blood, even amid mountains of corpses and seas of gore, not a speck of dust stained his robes.

Because he was timid, whenever others fought, he only dared to hide far away, only for everyone to die in a poisonous mist the next moment.

Because he was kind, he offered medicine to enemies suffering in agony. Sadly, they failed to endure it and died with blood pouring from all seven orifices.

And so, she decided to marry such a good person.

Later, righteous cultivators came charging in with swords drawn, shouting that he was a monster.

That night, corpses littered the ground.

At last, she remembered the plot.

This was a bizarre, fantastical world crawling with eerie horrors.

There was a great villain who lacked the emotions of an ordinary person. He brought calamity to the world and stirred up countless conflicts, until in the end, the male and female leads sacrificed their lives to seal him away.

Amid the storm of blood and violence, the young man looked back at her.

His blue eyes were deep and uncanny. Blood spattered his face, making him look like an Asura descended upon the mortal realm. Behind him, nine fox tails unfurled with wanton grace, bewitching and breathtakingly vivid.

Qiao Ying went deathly pale with fright.

But he only smiled softly. “If you’re scared and want to run, it’s too late-”

Before he could finish, Qiao Ying ran, but straight into his arms. She wiped the blood from his face and said, “You scared me! I thought you were hurt!”

The young man blinked, patted her head, then poked her cheek. “Are you stupid?”

I fell for the beautiful, powerful, tragic second male lead.

For his sake, I shattered my spirit meridians and lost every trace of my cultivation.

Yet when the heroine burst into our wedding hall, he still abandoned me for her.

I called after him, “Xie Qingxing, take one step beyond that door, and I’m done with you.”

He merely held the girl in his arms and showed me the cool, aloof line of his profile.

“She needs me. How can I stand by and do nothing?”

But he had forgotten that Meng Zhiyuan was not the only person who needed him.

My spirit meridians were completely severed, and without pure-yang spiritual energy to sustain them, they would wither within half a month and take my life with them.

But that was all right.

Xie Qingxing was hardly the only cultivator in the world who practiced the Formless Sword.